


The Forgotten Portrait

by ramza



Category: Ib (Video Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:27:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramza/pseuds/ramza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once you go in, there is no going back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Forgotten Portrait

**Author's Note:**

> a bunch of really shitty ib poetry from like. last october  
> i wrote literally all of these in one day during class cause i needed at least 1 for an assignment  
> the first three are all named after in-game paintings and the last is named after one of the endings  
> i didnt care enough to post these as separate things since theyre all p short -_-  
> enjoy

**The Forgotten Portrait**

He looks familiar  
Why do I know him?  
A mess of lilac hair,  
a fashionably ripped coat,  
something about him tells me  
it will be alright.  
Sleeping, unnoticed man,  
I swear I saw him smile  
as I turned to leave the gallery.  
I hope someone soon remembers  
this man in the forgotten portrait.

**Fabricated World**

Once you go in, there is no going back.  
All your time here will be lost.  
Will you still jump in?  
Into the world where the paintings reside?  
Where painted ladies and mannequin heads,  
creepy dolls and headless statues  
hide around every corner?  
Be warned, young one,  
the paintings are alive and  
the paintings are a harsh reality.  
Watch out, young one,  
for the one who will decieve you,  
stab you in the back-  
not to say there won’t be many,  
so keep your eyes open.  
Hold that stolen rose close  
and keep your wits about you.  
Have fun, young one,  
with the lessons learned and harsh realities  
here in this fabricated world.

**Trash**  
Rabbits?  
No, look closer  
A room full of dolls  
ready to play!  
Play with us!  
Find the key!  
Who has the key?  
Not me!  
Not me!  
Not me!  
Out of the painting  
she’s coming for you!  
Her red eyes see all  
and say  
"There was no key!"  
There is just  
you and me  
Forget now that little girl  
Forget now Garry, forget the world!  
Play with me!  
Speak to me!  
Join me, Garry,  
join me in this feeling  
of eternal bliss! 

****Together Forever** **

Multicoloured rose petals,  
red and blue and a single yellow  
scattered in the halls.  
In the darkened,  
twisted gallery they walk together,  
the young man and the little girl,  
hand in hand away from  
the fake.  
Painted words, warnings unseen  
on the walls. They drip, the blood  
of the exhibits.  
Down stairs and into a child’s sketchbook, the little girl  
faces every challenge with determination,  
never slowing down.  
The fake with the knife suggests  
one final game together.  
Trade the roses.  
The young man lay dead in the twisted hall,  
the fake and the little girl with painted parents  
escaping into the bright gallery.  
"If you need me, I’ll come running"  
hangs in the air, forgotten and discarded.  
The blue rose withers. 


End file.
